*2024 stock* Based out of Nova Scotia, the winding history of chik white has led Darcy Spidle to collaborate with artists as diverse as Bill Nace, Colin Fisher, and Xuan Ye, among others. Spiritually, ‘Wind Wound’ is also a sort of deep collaboration, although it is the connection between Darcy and the maker of a rather peculiar horn that lies at the heart of the realized work. Following a presentation to a sound class at the Halifax art college NSCAD, a student by the name of Austin Denman approached Darcy to discuss a ten-foot steel horn he was making. A correspondence ensued and– ultimately, upon determination that this was the right musician [i.e. weirdo] to do the thing justice–Austin made a gift to Darcy of the massive alpenhorn-style instrument. 

Throughout 2021, Darcy got to know this strange horn, quickly realizing that it was rife with idiosyncrasies. There were leaks and dents in the metal that warped the tones, requiring duct tape to be wrapped around some of the joints to provide a better seal. Of course, with each repair came a shift in the instrument’s tone and sound, not to mention the impact of shifts in humidity, temperature, or even the acoustic properties of the surface it was rested upon. The horn’s freak nature now apparent, Darcy began playing the horn for a short while each morning and often late at night, recording his sessions and keeping a log of these labrophone explorations.

At the beginning of 2022, awash in raw recordings, he began compiling the material into a more focused composed work, now presented as ‘Wind Wound.’ “Part One” is the sum total of 35 session recordings selected from the early months of Darcy’s practice, while “Part Two” comprises roughly 55 takes from the latter weeks. The end result is a byzantine latticework of sound that envelopes the listener in raw, swirling resonance–a wildly elemental listening experience. As for the steel alpenhorn itself, Darcy informed us that he recently pulled it out of the closet and attempted to play it again. Not being sure to blame the horn or his collapsed embouchure, he failed to get it to sound. “Nothing but air,” he lamented. “So perhaps all the music left of Austin’s horn is this album.”